What You Are
by TrippleThreatTrio
Summary: Loathsome degenerates craved blood, dreamt of it like an addiction that never went away. In the heat of such moments, beneath the metallic flavor, lay emotions that painted a canvas darker than the reddest red, and blacker than the darkest pitch of molten desire laid bare.
1. Chapter 1

(A project of the TTT, a short story with multiple chapters.)

 **What You Are**

 **Chapter 1**

Loathsome degenerates craved blood, dreamt of it like an addiction that never went away. In the heat of such moments, beneath the metallic flavor, lay emotions that painted a canvas darker than the reddest red, and blacker than the darkest pitch of molten desire laid bare.

In that one heated moment, a nip of the flesh could turn to greed and deceit that all who bared fangs dreaded. She had feared that side of herself, had locked it away with the very anger and resentment that came from the deepest parts of her heart.

She had promised never to sip it, that terrible red liquid that set every nerve alight with trembling ache and absolute need.

She had sworn to herself that she would never give in, never crumble, and would never allow herself to kiss along the nap of anyone's neck.

She would not seek, and so, she would not fall victim to such a deranged call, such as bloodlust.

If she could have continued on that way, would she have been there now?

Looming over the precipice of desire that called to her in ways that left her unknowing of her own power…

If she had continued to hold the beast at bay, could she have chained her own remorse and bitterness along with it?

Could she have be content with that?

If she continued to deny herself for eternity, could she at least wake up to live another day?

Those questions and more swirled in her head, as she lifted a strand of auburn hair away from the resting woman's face. Bella had no idea that the nape of her neck was so beautiful in the paleness of the moonlight. She slept soundlessly.

Rosalie could do no more than to lick her lips, close her eyes, and shun away the very feeling that made her gut twist as if a knife were stabbing into her. She almost wanted to commit the very action, to end the whispers in her head.

 _"_ _Maybe,"_ she considered for not the first time, _"that would be a fitting end."_

As she had no way of knowing this, she could only take a step back, least the sleeping woman wake.

 _"_ _What are you to me?"_

Alas, her mind ran empty, her blood icy cold, and her thundering heartbeat seemed to stop at the realization.

She didn't know, but she had to find out.


	2. Chapter 2

**What You Are**

 **Chapter 2: My Abjection**

Each confession to herself made her feel lower than she cared to admit, worthless to everyone and everything. She hated herself more than anyone else in the world, and she was not the most loving woman on the planet to begin with.

Her confessions, or lack of them, had made her into the unbreakable woman she appeared to be. Her convictions and resolve gave her an unquestionable backbone, but at what cost to herself and everyone else around her?

She was already destroyed, broken and crumbing to ash. She was just an object to be used and abused, torn to shreds, and left to cry until no more tears could slip from her eyes.

That's all she was, all she would ever really be. Just damaged goods, wasted property that was left behind, unwanted, unneeded, and beyond repair. She wondered if that's what made her want to taste blood for the first time, because there was no way out. No way to fix things, or put herself back together, no light at the end of the tunnel.

Her mask had been shattered,  
had her soul been too?

How could she really know, but, Bella inspired her to do terrible things. Things like sneak into the girl's room at night, stalking her like a predator would with pray.

 _"_ _I wonder if she'd break,"_ even thinking that made Rosalie want to vomit. _"I could try, it doesn't matter to me if she gets hurt along the way. If I broke her, then she would understand. Wouldn't she?"_

So, why couldn't she do it then?

Why couldn't she wrap her fingers around Bella's neck, tighten her grip and break bones? Why couldn't she at least end the woman?

Why?

Why was she so god-damned powerless?

The only thing she could bring herself to do was lift that white sheet up over Bella's shoulder and watch the woman as she rested.

Why was that?

 _"_ _I don't get you,"_ Rosalie thought to herself nipping at her lower lip to silence her thoughts. _"I don't get why you even occupy my mind like this. I hate you…"_

 _"_ _I absolutely, fucking, hate you."_

 _"_ _So why am I even here?"_

Bella's cheek was soft to Rosalie's imploring caress. It wasn't enough, but it could never be more than that.

 _"Why do I even... Why... Just why..."_


	3. Chapter 3

**What You Are**

 **Chapter 3: My Balm**

If a sigh could release years of pent up frustration, then she figured she should have been healed long before now. As it stood, she could only sit and look at her reflection the same way she would an insect. It was aggravating, and smashing it would be better than letting it live. Sick, disgusting things like that, they deserved to die. If she was like an insect, didn't the same thing hold true about her?

But even butterflies were beautiful.

There was no way she would ever be that beautiful. No way hell. She was as ugly as they came. She could never look at herself in the mirror without wanting to rip her own image right off and toss it into the trash. Most people who looked at her, made her feel equally as sick. It was as if their eyes were crawling over her like terminates, digging into her flesh and leaving her a disgrace.

But Bella's eyes were different. They seemed to look through her. She was neither insect, nor broken doll…she wasn't even worth looking at. She was merely another face in the crowd to Bella. Neither friend nor foe, just an entity that didn't really matter.

 _"_ _Why do you do that?"_ She asked soundlessly to that retreating back of the woman who lingered in her every waking thought. _"How can you walk right by me like that and not even notice? Do you even care? No... How can you? I bet you don't, and that's just fine. You'll notice one day, won't you?"_

In spite of the question, she was thankful.

Yet, once again when night fell, and her journey brought her to loom over the sleeping woman, she could do no more than crave Bella's scent.

She wanted it so bad, to see that woman tremble beneath her.

In fear,  
in agony,  
in denial,  
in desire…

It didn't matter, she just wanted to see Bella break, and wanted to do the breaking. Leaving the woman behind to wallow in her own pit of despair, now that, that would have been something worthwhile.

 _"_ _I wish I could kill you,"_ Rosalie thought to herself, as she turned her back to the sleeping woman once more. _"One day, maybe I will, until then, sleep soundly, my little beauty."_


	4. Chapter 4

**What You Are**

 **Chapter 4: My Craving**

A kiss wouldn't be enough, but just looking at her wasn't enough either.

Watching was only making matters worse. A desire that left far too much to the shadows of the unknown loomed between them. Bella didn't know the truth, that she was being watched every night by the eyes of a woman who thought so much, and yet so little of her.

Rosalie struggled between waking her up, or to just keep watching.

If she told Bella the truth, Bella might respond with some measure of kindness, or maybe just pity. Rosalie didn't want pity. She didn't want a sad look aimed at her, she didn't want anyone to notice. Bella might be afraid, and that would force Rosalie's hand.

Force her to silence Bella for good, force her to kill Bella, and leave nothing more than a bloody mess behind. That served to be a dismal endeavor, so Rosalie kept quiet.

Even if Bella did know, even if she was somehow okay with it, that didn't mend the haunting whispers. She didn't want to hear Bella's voice saying sweet little nothings, she wanted to hear the woman cry, wanted to taste salty tears, and once again, she wondered how deep the woman's slumber ran.

Could she wake Bella up? Probably.

Was it conducive to her goals? No.

 _"_ _I'd have to gag you, chain you to the bed, then I could do what I wanted. You wouldn't be able to tell me otherwise. Hell, if blindfolded you, you wouldn't even know it was me. Maybe you'd like that. Maybe you'd get wet enough for me to take you without making you bleed…"_

A smirk played across Rosalie's face, but it wasn't of joy. it was of sadness and self-loathing, bitter and painful.

 _"_ _That wouldn't do. I want to taste you. I don't just want blood, no, not just blood. You. All of you. Your sadness, your desire, your hate, everything you can give me. I'll taste it, one day. I promise you that, Bella."_

Those thoughts were enough to soothe the scathing burn of desire that had begun to work its way into the empty shell that she called a chest, and deeper still, into the cavity that she called a heart.

The tired old rule ran true, keep your friends close, and your enemies closer. She wondered then about everyone else, those that weren't one or the other. Where did they belong?

More aptly, where did Bella belong?

 _"_ _I am not a trite woman, but you, for you I may give in just once. You'd be worth it, if you came to understand the truth. Oh, but my dear sweet Bella, even if I destroyed you, even then, you would never really understand, would you?"_

Such as life went, she supposed.


	5. Chapter 5

**What You Are**

 **Chapter 5: Drug**

Rosalie was sure that she'd be called creepy if anyone knew what she'd been up to. She wasn't okay with it herself.

How many times had she ostracized her peers for the same offense? She'd cast judgement easily, belittling everyone else around her, because… because… _because…_

Rules were rules,  
personal space was personal space,  
and no one _ever_ had the right to impede on that.  
 _No one._

No matter what. She believed that, and thought herself completely idiotic for even committing the deed of watching Bella sleep. There was no true harm in it, other than her mind was not what Rosalie herself deemed stable.

That's what terrified her the most, she was fully aware of her own, inherent wrongness.

The edge of insanity was a dangerous place to be, and getting her fix began to get harder and harder by the day. Each pressing moment forward, and each looming step backwards, it felt like a she was going to lose her mind. The moments mingled, leaving her dizzy. She couldn't help it, she surged forward, hands on either side of the woman, as they were nose to nose.

Soon, they were even eye-to-eye.

Shame made Rosalie push away first,  
courage made Bella follow soon after.

"What are you doing in my room?"

A hushed whisper for which Rosalie had no answer for engulfed them.

She could only shrug. Admitting the truth would end it, putting a stop to her nightly ritual. She needed her fix, to gaze upon a sleeping, defenseless woman, who neither knew, nor cared about the world around her. Rosalie needed to feel as if her presence was an insignificant thing.

Both unimportant, and thus trivial.

But gods smite her if she didn't want to admit her feelings, or some semblance of what was running though her head. Emotions, if they could really be called that, seemed frozen. Just like always, she retorted to a distant quip.

"You never know what's going on around here," Rosalie said.

As she pressed her back into the wall, her eyes finding the soft breeze from the window. It was enough to trap her attention. How many times had she slipped by those flowing curtains? She didn't know, and really, she didn't care.

"If you don't start getting a clue, there's a chance you'll end up regretting it, not that it's any of my concern one way or the other," she sighed as she went back towards the window.

She'd vanished that night without little more, even as Bella gazed onward confused as hell, and almost angry.

Almost, but not quite.

The next night, Bella's window was locked, and the game was afoot once more as the door was left cracked open.


	6. Chapter 6

**What You Are**

 **Chapter 6: My Euphoria**

The door was left cracked open.

A way inside the room that she never would have thought she'd be given. She wanted her next high, and crept through the door and shut it tightly, putting the book that propped it open on the shelf. The room was usually dark, but a tiny nightlight gave the room a soft glow.

She wondered what she might see, as these changes were new to her, and on some instinctual level, they seemed off. She wasn't sure how, or even why. The room was more than normal, and Bella was resting in bed, her breath even.

Rosalie wondered if the door had been left that way for Edward or some other boy. She considered it a possibility that Bella had intended it for any passerby, man or woman.

She licked her lips, feeling as though she might just have a chance, but at what? Sex was beyond her ken, a sickening thing that wound around her gut and reminded her about how twisted she really was. Broken glass was more alluring than she could ever be.

At least glass was fragile and beautiful. It was artistic in the way it shattered.

A woman, normal or not, would never be that beautiful. _She_ would never be that beautiful. Along with the sudden invitation to just waltz right in, came the feeling that she was no longer insignificant. That she too, was somehow important. She was no longer a shadow looming in background, but a visitor that was perhaps even welcomed.

It held weight, and merited consideration.

She had to admit, it took a great deal of trust to let someone float around one's personal space unguarded. Lingering regret reminded Rosalie that she couldn't even trust herself. It came to mind that she was no better than a monster, if that was her goal.

She cursed, sighing as she sunk to the floor in the darkest corner. Suddenly, the thrill was gone, dispelled like the very air that she couldn't quite grasp onto.

Tears fell from her eyes, strangely hot against her skin, but they were soundless. No sobs following them. _"How can you let me do this?"_ She thought to herself as horrible thought after horrible thought crashed into her. _"Why would you trust me? I don't even trust me. This is insane, but you have to know that. You have to know!"_

And suddenly her thoughts had become words. "But you still trust me."

Through the shadows of the darkened room, the voice she dreaded most spoke to her once more. "Of course I do."

It was mesmerizing, such a simple little phrase, but it was too heavy, and Rosalie couldn't maintain the weight of it.


	7. Chapter 7

**What You Are**

 **Chapter 7: My Fatigue**

Weighted conversations were difficult, simple conversations were annoying. There was no in-between. She could expect the worst of the situation. Bella, clad in a nightgown, was a sight that did terrible things to the mind of anyone who gazed upon her.

It was long enough to cover the woman, it was short enough to drive a sane person crazy. Bella sat cross-legged on the bed, pulling the covers over herself.

"Why do you come into my room at night?"

Rosalie could lie, or tell the truth, but neither one of those things would really help her. She settled for bitter indifference. "I don't know."

"Edward at least wakes me up, you could do the same."

Rosalie rolled her eyes, pushing the fair hair of hers out of the way. "That would ruin it."

"Ruin what?"

Rosalie felt pinned by the glare she was being sent, and sighed deeply. "The way I think."

"Well, maybe if you let me in on that, I wouldn't be so freaked out right now."

There it was, that biting retort that Rosalie expected would come sooner or later. "You." She muttered with disdain. "I think about you."

"Why?"

Just like that, the biting retort had slipped into mild confusion, and it was one that Rosalie couldn't take aimed at her. She'd rather be hated, kicked out, or smacked across the face. It would have been justified, and she craved that more than the mere words between them, trite and idle in the long run. She wanted something else, some sort of tangible, unquestionable emotion.

Speaking did nothing, and only bothered her more. "If I knew that, I wouldn't be here." She muttered as she got up and headed towards the door. "If you leave the door cracked again, I'm going to come in here again tomorrow. That's just how it's going to be."

"No, use the window," Bella said quietly. "You'll be less likely to get caught that way."

"You're going to encourage this?" Rosalie shot back, awed by that…

Awed and slightly annoyed.

"Yes," Bella murmured again after a moment as she laid back down in bed. "But only because knowing you, you'd do it again anyway. I don't have time for that."


	8. Chapter 8

**What You Are**

 **Chapter 8: My Gamble**

She didn't like trusting other people, she could hardly trust herself.

What had started as a fixation had become something more. God help her, if her mouth and mind didn't ache because of it. Fangs might have damn well have been a terrible myth that became burdensome over the years, but that didn't mean that she couldn't rip through flesh if she really wanted to.

And damn her, she wanted to.

Her teeth were sharp, and sometimes the area around her gums felt itchy. She'd run her tongue over them and berate herself, but that didn't stop the hunger. It didn't ease the cravings, and it didn't keep away the impulse to gnaw on any unsuspecting victim.

She was just a master of control, or so she declared herself, demanding even her own craving to bend to her willpower. If she was still a human woman, she'd be drooling, but the venom in her mouth lingered something foul, and with a heavy swallow she took a breath.

Another night, another romp through hell. Bella was sleeping, but if she was taunting Rosalie, she was playing with fire, because her neck was left exposed by both the sheet around her midsection, and the hair that she kept in a tail while she slept.

It was rare, if ever, that Bella kept her hair confined in any way, shape, or form.

It would only take a second. One quick nip, fast and hard to the jugular. That's all she would need and her long held, long denied desire, would be hers. She wondered what the color red would do painted on that otherwise flawless skin. Further, she wondered what kissing that skin would be like.

Sweet, or salty?

The question coaxed Rosalie to linger over the woman, her nose brushing across sensitive skin. It would have been so, so easy, but Bella trusted her. She felt obligated to maintain that trust.

 _"_ _This is a test,"_ Rosalie concluded darkly with a grimace. _"She's doing this to see if I'll actually bite her. She's not sleeping, she's waiting. The question is, is she foolish enough to think she could fight me off? No, she's not that insane, is she?"_

There was a distinct smell in the air, sweat that wasn't from being hot, or aroused, it was something else. Something that the vampire had never once come into contact with before. Then again, Rosalie had never played this kind of game, either.

It wasn't fear, either, Bella was too calm, even if she was faking sleep.

Rosalie didn't want to talk about it. Didn't want to have questions flung at her, or have Bella give her that look of pity again. Instead, she just pushed herself away, and retreated into the night, sneaking around as she had grown used to doing.

 _"Damn her, crazy bitch._ _No one is that insane,"_ Rosalie sighed to herself. _"Not even me."_


	9. Chapter 9

**What You Are**

 **Chapter 9: My Humility**

Shame was a hard thing to feel when you were a person that demanded to feel pride at every turn.

She wanted to feel prideful, but more than that, she wanted to feel as if she had a particularly strong level of control. Bella questioned that control, bent it, and very easily threatened to break it. The game had become more than that now, and both women seemed equally interested in just what that meant.

The only problem was, the two of them had no idea how deep the void ran. If her control ever did snap, then poor little unsuspecting Bella would be on the receiving end of that wrath. Death was not an impossible outcome. Unlikely, but, it was also easily unlikely she would escape this game unscathed, either.

They weren't talkers, not by a long shot. Actions carried heavy burdens that if left unaddressed, would lead to terrible ruin. In this, their solution came not by words, but by actions. Chest pieces upon a board, the victor would gain spoils unbeknownst to them. Still, what would winning entail? That was harder to discern.

With every icy glance to the side, it became unwittingly clear just what sparked the strangeness between them, but, neither woman had an answer for why it continued to burn between them, a war of wits.

"You know, you could always sleep here if you'd rather," Bella offered, already seeing the rejection the girl would give her, without having to take a guess.

"I don't require company when I rest," Rosalie answered icily. "Even if I did, I doubt I'd ever seek that from the likes of you."

"Then what do you want from me?"

"Absolutely nothing," the fair haired woman told her with a shrug. "So enters my problem. You are little more than the pure essence of troublesome to my personal being. I hate that."

There was nothing Bella could say to that, and fixed her gaze into the far off distance of the night sky. She wanted to find something better to say, but settled on the obvious. "You're only making matters worse."

"Indeed," that was the one thing had become clear, loathe though she was to admit it. "I do not like being put in awkward situations," Rosalie finally concluded with as stern a voice as she could manage. "I especially don't like thinking about one thing over and over again. Do it too long, it gets too you… As it has gotten to me."

"Well, what do you want me to do about it?" Bella asked defiantly, not even batting an eye. "It sounds like your problem, not mine."

"It is your problem," Rosalie neither budged nor considered for a moment that this woman had an ounce of control over her. "Think otherwise, I'll kill you. Simple as that."

"You don't really want to kill me."

"It would be an inconvenience, but don't mistake that for kindness. "Rosalie said, stalking forward with murderous intent, her hand reaching out to grip the soft throat of Bella, her fingers constricting ever so slightly. "You're like my nightmare. I hate you, and everything you represent. You don't know what you want, and you've never had to face down demons like mine. Hell, I wonder if you could."


	10. Chapter 10

(I usually update in bulk, and my day to do that was going to be Wednesday, but real life made other plans. I'm going to sprinkle chapters about throughout the week, when I get a chance to post them.)

 **What You Are**

 **Chapter 10: My Intuition**

Fragile, like glass.

Women were so breakable.

Men were the superior gender, or so went the claim. Rosalie had no problems agreeing to it, from an evolutionary standpoint, she had to agree. It didn't free them from her scrutiny, however. In fact, because they were more powerful, she expected them to be better equipped to handle their own shortcomings.

Instead, they used that power for wrong doings, and Rosalie hated that. It was what ultimately made them weak, they could take what they wanted, even the will of others. Remorselessly crushing the dreams and desires of those people underfoot. Women, they were just easy targets, and men trampled on them just as easily.

Holding another life in the palm of her hand,  
choosing that life's last breath,  
it was a power so twisted that it went beyond logic.

But killing Bella wouldn't do anything, it would only solidify the one thing Rosalie had always told herself; she was an ugly thing.

Ugly things deserved to die, and in spite of what anyone said, there was no redemption for that kind of darkness. It was too ugly, too twisted, and Rosalie, she was too tired to care.

"You're out of my league," Rosalie said quietly, releasing her grip, but not her stare. "You're too far out of reach, and maybe it's my fault that I can't handle it, but you play with fire too. You provoke me. Do that, I'll burn you. You're the minority in this."

"I'd ask what happened to you, but, I don't think I want to know." Bella said, no fear in her voice, just pity.

"Don't assume the best of people," Rosalie coolly replied, "Further, don't claim the worst. It's always one or the other with you."

"You too." Bella said.

"Don't look at me that way. I have the right!" Rosalie yelled, slapping the girl in front of her. "Insolent bitch, listen to yourself. I'm the aggressor here."

"You're the bitch," Bella said, grabbing on to Rosalie's wrists. "You're the one acting like a freak!"

"It would take one to know one." Yes, Rosalie supposed she was a freak. "Well then, allow me to educate you as to why I'm a freak. If I am to be condemned for heinousness, I might as well live up to it."


	11. Chapter 11

**What You Are**

 **Chapter 11: My Justice**

There was a real sense of fear that lingered there between them, a mire of emotion drained from the both of them, but it was Rosalie who stood as the major power, able to crush the other woman at a moment's notice.

In that, she could taste the reality in the salt of Bella's skin. What soft, perfect skin it was, too. A nip was all it would take, but her lips made the girl quake, and Rosalie liked that.

"You won't get away with this," Bella murmured.

"I never said I intended to," Rosalie said, another kiss planted on the hollow of the girl's throat. "I'm not that full of myself."

"You're full of something," Bella said snidely, pushing Rosalie away with force. "Don't touch me."

Rosalie, not paying any mind to the request, pushed back, kissing Bella on the lips. A hand reached out, slapping her, but she hardly felt it.

"I said don't touch me!"

Rosalie's fingers came up to rest at her cheek, and upraised eyebrow brow indicating confusion over fury. Bella was livid, but Rosalie, she was intrigued. Before long, a cocky smirk played across her lips. That smirk turned into a toothy grin, and beyond that something more sinister. Something nearing a sneer, but it was far too delighted for even that. Rosalie had to admit, Bella had a good right hook, an average human would have seen stars. For a vampire, it meant nothing. "Cute, but you'd have to do better."

Better at what, she didn't say, but as she grabbed Bella by the shoulders, her fingers dug painfully into tender living flesh. "Now listen here, we can do this my way, or your way. You resist, I'll snap your neck and fling you out of the building like a rag doll. Be a good girl, do as I say, and you may even enjoy yourself. Now what do you say?"

Bella gritted her teeth, trying to break Rosalie's hold, to no avail. What did she say? What could she say? Bella bit the inside of her cheek, coming to one simple conclusion, bitterly deicing that she was in too deep, and some part of her liked that thrill. That was the worst part of all. She knew she could have shouted for help, made enough racket, and people would have come running.

A small part of her though, really didn't want to, and she found her answer didn't change. "I'd say you're out of your mind."

Rosalie grinned, wetting her lips with the tip of her tongue as she leaned in, capturing Bella's with hers. Rough and wanting, affording the woman at her mercy no question as to her intent as she violently gripped and twisted the fabric of Bella's nightgown, ripping it, and tearing it away. "That… That might be true, but I promise you that when I'm done with you, you will be too."


	12. Chapter 12

**What You Are**

 **Chapter 12: My Kink**

Rational thinking wasn't within her grasp, but Rosalie didn't care. She couldn't explain why, not exactly. It wasn't hunger, it wasn't greed, and it wasn't truly anger either, even if that was part of it. Something else drove her to want to kiss, touch, and possibly be touched back in return.

The last desire, of being touched, that made her sick. Almost sick enough to vomit, because touch was a thing that burned. It always did, and she would be sure to let Bella understand why.

She wanted to hurt her, nails drawing red, weeping, lines along the girl's back as they kissed. It was a heated thing, emotional rage beyond the kiss. Tempting beyond belief, even as the smell of crimson flared the senses, scent and taste coming alive. Desire was a black depth of territory made raw by white hot, blinded struggles. Power over passion. Rosalie wondered in those small few moments, what was more painful.

Breaking a person, or being the one broken?  
Mourning the loss of innocence, or throwing it away?  
Finding happiness that she couldn't hold onto, or living in an eternal hell?  
Loving the woman, or hating the woman?  
Letting Bella live, or killing her and being done with it?

Even without answers to those questions, it was clear Bella wanted to be destroyed. She was practically begging for it, and Rosalie found that all too alluring as she rid the woman of all cloth, bare before her, a treasure-trove of bodily beauty. Crimson reds upon white sheets and creamy skin, dark hair disheveled, and plump lips left bruised. It all painted a welcome picture upon the backdrop of muffled moans and pained screams, silenced by a wad of torn garments gagging the woman at her mercy.

Rosalie even then, didn't see an error in her calculations. She only realized that Bella was prepared to face down such brutal intent with every waking breath she took.

The depths between the woman's legs left tender and raw, even the cool breath of air stung Bella as she trembled in both fear and delight as their night came to a close. Being left abandoned once Rosalie found herself bored, tears were not enough for her to stay into the morning's light.

"I'd really like to kill you," she said, looking down at her fingertips, now pink with tinges of sweet smelling blood and musky arousal. "That neither solves my problem, nor soothes it." She ripped the gag out of the girl's mouth before taking her leave. "Letting you live, though, that's probably worse."


	13. Chapter 13

**What You Are**

 **Chapter 13: My Longing**

For several long days she didn't return to see Bella.

Nights passed right on by, and she loom in the darkness of the woman's room. She had no desire to see, or be seen. The urge to kill Bella was fading into the shadows, but Rosalie didn't think that was a good thing. She wasn't putting Bella behind her, she wasn't putting to rest the horrible thing she did. She wasn't even plotting to do it again.

Instead, she was clinging to the fact that Bella had wanted her. It was too inviting, and the tears in Bella's eyes had been warm. Pity still there, laced with something else. The sight of her had been beautiful, and, Rosalie could still taste the salt on her lips, craved it all the more.

Stormy feelings such as these were not in Rosalie's best interest, and she hated that it was so all unclear.

She shook her head, berating herself as she looked in the mirror. She was an empty shell of the woman she might have been, the woman she could have been, the woman she _wanted_ to be. The woman she couldn't be, not anymore.

She didn't want to kill anyone, or drink blood for the sake of it. She didn't want to fall prey to the gaze of another, and be at their mercy with just so much as a simple few words. Most of all, she didn't want that window latch to be undone, as if Bella was waiting for her in the same way she would a lover.

Rosalie didn't want to love her.

Bella didn't deserve love, especially not from someone like Rosalie, who couldn't even love herself.

Food was too bland, the nights too dreary, and Rosalie's mind too captured by the dim moonlight cast upon the floor. Water would not quench her thirst, sleep would not soothe her ailing mind, and logic would not ward away the irrational.

Inside a lonely soul, a beast roared, chains rattling in anarchy.

Yet, a porcelain was a delicate thing, and her perfect image had already shattered around her, dust in her hands.


	14. Chapter 14

**What You Are**

 **Chapter 14: My Malignancy**

Guilt, by and large, wasn't something useful.

It was only one of those staggeringly pointless emotions. One of the silly little ones that settled into the back of the mind. She hated it.

Guilt...

Only idiots foolishly believed in it. Guilt was for a person who thought they had some measure of control, some form of agency. It was a paper thin, little white lie, that crumpled and shredded into tiny little bits. Words, or rather excuses, tattered and no longer understood. Guilt, like all worthless emotions of its kind, didn't hold up under scrutiny.

A good person would always atone for their sins, so guilt was too often cast aside. A terrible person might not ever come to understand it, and so had no use for it. Rosalie, under careful study of her own sense of being, had concluded that long ago. Guilt was neither for the depressed, nor those in mourning, leaving it quickly by the wayside to fester and flounder.

Flipping a coin would produce more proactive results, even if the chance was split down the middle.

So why then, as she spent her time away in hiding, did clarity begin to shine through the darkness of her otherwise angry, vicious existence? She wasn't soothed, eased, or calmed by the ways she'd acted. If anything, she was disgusted by it. Somehow hoping she would have to pay for her crimes, it was pathetic. Insane really, that she wanted to pay for it in ways that her aggressors never did. Yet, she was a different creature by nature.

She feared getting hurt, avoided it at all cost.  
Bella wanted to get hurt, welcomed it wholeheartedly.

In that, they were two very different people. Two fundamentally different entities. They would question the very fabric of their own existences through the other woman. So long as Bella continued to breath, Rosalie knew she'd have a vice for her madness. So long as Rosalie remained the more dominant of the two of them, Bella would be forced to either fully accept, or fully deny the advances given to her.

Rosalie was a woman too after all, and that complicated the dating game.

Both of them knew that Edward, though a man who could get away with more than his fair share of trouble, couldn't have gotten away with sexually dominating a woman in the way Rosalie had. He instantly would become the villain, and instantly he would have been called out. Inevitably, his sins would have been dragged from the shadows.

Rosalie, as a woman, has some measure of protection. Some stupid ideology that women, by and large, couldn't truly hurt another woman. That lie kept her from facing any outcry. People would think it a mockery, really, and that in and of itself was a shame.

In the end, Bella found it to be a game, she didn't take it seriously.  
And Rosalie, she was too apathetic to truly care.

Anyway Rosalie looked at it, the situation was like a tumor.  
There was no escape.


	15. Chapter 15

**What You Are**

 **Chapter 15: My Narcissism**

It was the luck of the draw, really, when she took the time to think about all the little details that really mattered to her.

She wasn't really a fan of her own beauty, thinking herself ugly on any given day, but there was something she found herself starting to like. With a fascination unlike any other, she'd discovered a tiny little spec of hope. Something dwindling in the recesses of her otherwise rage filled mind, a lingering horror that she, herself, found uncanny.

Like a moth to a flame, that desire seemed to burn more brightly the more she considered the truth about just what that desire meant.

She liked that thrill of power, and tiny little shock of lust. It mingled with a warm feeling she had never before experienced. It was a feeling that was pleasant, yet, it only seemed to crop up when that dark haired woman of her affection gazed into her.

Rosalie had not once sought out that gaze, but in recent nights, that gaze had indeed come to her.

Seeking her out, the silk nightie falling onto the floor, and leaving behind only moon kissed skin and the silhouette of her more than willing victim. Those sauntering hips, the desire placed there, a small glistening moisture a musky scent.

As if, impossibly so, Bella had touched herself just enough to leave herself wet and wanting.

Rosalie made no move to invite the woman forward, and instead took a few steps in Bella's direction of her own volition, a raw understanding shared between them.

"I don't like you," Rosalie said, her murmur icily dangerous against the shell of Bella's ear.

"You don't have to like me," Bella husked, her legs parting on instant the moment cold fingertips caressed her though, sharp nails raking along the tender flesh in their wake. "I don't need you to like me, I just need you to fuck me."

"I might kill you," Rosalie purred, her fingers drifting upwards to where they were sought out most.

"And miss breaking my body?" Bella buried her head into the crook of Rosalie's neck, sighing in both pleasure and pain. "You wouldn't."

Somehow, that wasn't right either though, both women knew it was something far greater.

It wasn't that Rosalie wouldn't, it's that she couldn't.

She was too compelled to test and tempt, to bend and break, to ever truly kill the girl.

At least, not yet.


	16. Chapter 16

**What You Are**

 **Chapter 16: My Obsession**

Her room had somehow become the newest den of iniquity.

It was a fact that was both stunningly simple, yet left her very, very confused. Her clothes had been left forgotten on the floor, around and on the bed, her bra clinging onto the foot of the bed sheets, as if it were clinging for the dearest of life.

A strange little reality to consider, as her own fingers grasped and clutched at the woman above her. Rosalie's whole body hummed, her teeth aching something fierce.

This was not a position she wanted to be in, legs spread, hair splayed out across her pillow, and at the mercy of her own victim. Bella had expertly turned the tides, her tongue running circles along places that Rosalie deemed off limits to almost everyone. Letting Bella taste her, tested her to the brink.

She hated to admit it, but she knew she had too. Rosalie was hungry, starving, and insatiable by mere orgasm alone.

She was sure that if she were to climax, she'd flip the girl onto her back, ravish her, and then eat her alive. Rosalie felt like a rabid, starving animal who could no longer distinguish friend from foe. Her arousal was painfully obvious to both herself, and the woman who tested such a dangerous fire by pouring gasoline on the flame.

Bella's safety was assured by only one thing; Rosalie could snap her neck, could choose to do so at any time, and amused the prospect at every moment.

But death, crimson black by nature, wouldn't pull away the need that lingered in her deepest, darkest desires.

The tide was too deep to swim, her mind murky, blissfully unaware of just what it would mean to break herself any further than what she already was. Making Bella just as broken was probably beyond the fabrication of logic her mind had made for her.

A lie nestled deeply beneath the passion. A fleeting thought popped like a bubble upon the surface of water, and along with it, the scraps of desire tore away.

 _"_ _If this is love, I don't want to exist anymore…"_

With trembling lips, she opened her mouth wide, a deep breath pulling in the cold night air against her nearly burning lungs. Bella was so close.

Too close.

And with a scowl, Rosalie forced her mouth shut, close her eyes, and cursed, nipping on her own tongue in the process.

 _"_ _It's not love, its torture."_


	17. Chapter 17

**What You Are**

 **Chapter 17: My Possession**

The bed would be cold if Bella left.

Rosalie knew that, even if she didn't dare think of the moment when such a thing might happen. Such a prospect was strangely unappealing.

"You really are insane," Rosalie breathed, unsure of herself, and the reasons why she felt the need to say it out loud. Bella probably already figured that out. "Don't you get it? I could kill you, leave you dead and gone on the floor. No one would ever have to know that I did it. What sick, twisted bitch, would come into my room knowing that?"

Bella flattened her lips into a tight line, almost frowning. "You won't, you don't really want to, or you would have."

"It's not about that."

"It must be."

Rosalie turned, her fingers wrapping around Bella's wrist as she maneuvered over the girl. "I let you live, because killing you would be too much trouble."

"Only if you care enough to keep me alive."

Without thinking, a usually gentle hand connected harshly with the soft skin of Bella's cheek, a red mark forming in its wake. Eyes wide, they stared together at each other, neither one of them finding the purchase to speak on such unstable emotions. If fear had a scent, it exuded from the woman pinned down onto the bed. The softness of the mattress did nothing for the vice like grip holding her to the bed, forcing them to meet eye-to-eye.

Bella unable to move.  
Rosalie content to stay her place, holding all of the power in her hands.  
Both of them flirting with the prospect of death in their own ways.

Temptresses chained by circumstance…

Long moments passed before Rosalie finally smirked. "Don't jump to conclusion that you have no clue about. The simple fact is, I'm the one in charge here. You're too willful to understand the truth, so I'll spell it out for you. You're mine until I deem you unnecessary. Once you become a burden, the only thing left to do is kill you. Until then, you can live, and you can even be disobedient. In the end though, you're as fleeting to me is as an insect."


	18. Chapter 18

**What You Are**

 **Chapter 18: My Quandary**

Threatening another person's life was clearly dangerous, but it was also arousing.

There was a dark thrill in the moist arousal such an act caused, the heat of such words both vengeful and disempowering. Rosalie's whole life had been governed by power. Her own ability to tame it, that damnable inner beast of hers that so wanted to taste blood. She was used to toying with the idle little details of such addiction, but never before had such a willing subject come skittering across her mind, bed, and body.

None anyway, before Bella.

The woman was strange, and didn't seem to care that she had a stalker, sexually inclined or otherwise. Their daily lives reflected such perfect normalcy. It was as if no one knew the truth. As if Bella hadn't told a soul, as if she didn't want to. Rosalie didn't believe in Stockholm syndrome. Not truly at any rate. Or rather, if it did exist, only the weakest of the weak would be interested in such a thing. From a far, she gazed predatorily, like a cat after a mouse.

Yet, that wasn't right either.

It wasn't complete insanity, or ineptitude. Whatever continued between them was far too deep for something so simple. As an answer, it just didn't add up. Rosalie gnashed on her lower lip, another new bad habit. This would be the death of her if she kept it up, of that she was sure. Fit to be tied, and fit to be removed from this world as an expendable source.

But then again, that was the entire problem wasn't it?

Failing to expend what should have already be destroyed?

Why hadn't she?

The continuous madness like a never ending loop, it was a groundhog day over and over.

She'd have to break the cycle, but doing that was damn near impossible.


	19. Chapter 19

**What You Are**

 **Chapter 19: My Rage**

Neutrality was impossible, and she would have to choose a side.

Through denial and a slow dawning of understanding, Rosalie had come to understand the one single flaw within her own strength.

Control.

She was so power hungry, so desperate to have that one single ability that dictated her humanity, or what was left of it. Her drive and focus would be her downfall. She honestly hadn't noticed that Bella's existence meant something profound to that one, single little word. Control.

Yet, it did mean something. Something great, and grand. Rosalie had thought that killing the girl would be a sign of weakness, but that had slowly began to change.

To deny her own need, that would be the true test of power, godlike and resolute.

Control, it came down to a question.

If she truly needed Bella to exist, ending her very life, stalling her breath, would be the true show of courage and power. Another terrible loss, another sordid representation of something Rosalie could never get back. Besides which, if she didn't need Bella, as she often claimed, there would be no loss, no complication, and no sadness either. She would either way, be doing herself a favor.

Control.

She sharpened her knife, toying with the blade that pricked at her skin and left nothing behind. She was too resilient for the trinket, but Bella, she was still mortal. Too mortal to survive what Rosalie had planned.

 _"_ _I'll kill her slowly,"_ Rosalie thought to herself, a growl that neared a purr slipping from deep within her throat. " _I'll write my name in her desire, and sign our bond in blood. I bring to her one final high, and in doing so, crush any and all change she might have of thinking she can win. I'll do it, so that she knows that she's nothing. I'm ugly, I know it, and I'll show that sickness to her."_

The mental tug-of-war pulled at her insides, clenching them, and making her belly roll with uncertainty. The mere thought of what she wanted to do, knowing what it would cost her... It left her unsure, and once again, her finger toyed carelessly with the knife in her hand. It was little more than nervous fidgeting as she considered her options.

 _"_ _But if I kill her, what does that make me?"_ Rosalie thought to herself, standing from the chair in front of her dresser. The mirror afforded her no comfort for the nearly frozen look in her eyes. _"It's not like I want the validation, so, what's the point…other than a little amusement_."

Twirling the tip against her palm, she ignored the small poke she felt, her fingers wrapping around the sharp metal entirely. _"Either way, this damn nightmare has to stop."_


	20. Chapter 20

**What You Are**

 **Chapter 20: My Sin**

Like always, she played their little game. Entering into Bella's room as the woman slept. It was a familiar pastime for the two of them.

She chose not to move from her place, watching the girl sleep, a routine that had become like second nature. It was so soothing to the spirit, especially since the woman once again slept soundly enough to ignore the world around her. Rosalie swallowed hard, knowing that the blade strapped to her inner thigh was all it would take.

It would be so simple to end it.

Right here, right now, she could close the gap from all of her inward torture, silencing her mind once and for all.

 _"_ _Be still,"_ some fragment of her mind, rationality, seemed to say to her, _"you don't want to do this."_

Maybe she didn't, she considered, and yet, maybe she did.

Rosalie could never be sure, what with the way temptation flowed in and out of her mind. Wayward dreams and thoughts colliding to birth a rather obscure picture of what had to be reality. That was the only name for this place, this room, this moment between them. This, for all that it was, had to be reality, didn't it?

She wasn't sure.

Not of the peacefully sleeping woman, or her quaking hand that fell to her inner thigh, caressing the leather that held the knife in place.

 _"_ _If you do this, you won't be able to take it back,"_ rational thought said to her once more. Yet again she caresses that leather, supple under her fingertips.

 _"_ _I know,"_ she thought back darkly. She popped the metal button. _"I don't want to go back."_

 _"_ _You don't want to stay in limbo, either,"_ her mind reminded her. The crux of all issues. _"What is she? This woman, this girl, who offers her body so willingly at the expense of dignity? What have you really learned, and what has she learned from you?"_

Rosalie hadn't a clue. _"Probably nothing, possibly everything. It doesn't matter, she doesn't need to know. Not where she's going."_

Her mind slowly seemed to be tearing itself in half, pulling away the thin webbing off of her dusty past. She did remember it clearly, and no amount of burying it would make it go away. No amount of forcing that life onto others would mend the wounds either. They were too deep, too far out of reach. No-one else could, and thus two sides of the same pain had been born.

If Rosalie had to give anyone credit for that, it had been Bella. Bella was the cause and creator of the hungry, insipid creature that rattled, growled and clawed from within to be let out. It was the nurturer that gave rise to the utmost strength of that desire.

Ultimately, Bella would also provide the supreme sacrifice to the now starving creature known as hope.

Hope, what an unsightly thing.  
A thing deserving an end, because it was something so easy to give, and so easy to fail upon.

Rational thought and desire waged war, having a strong battle of wits. If that knife could be turned on herself, Rosalie would have ended that inward argument long ago, but that knife, it would be useless under the circumstances. It was useless then, and it would be useless now.

Useless, unless she could make that one step forward.


	21. Chapter 21

**What You Are**

 **Chapter 21: My Trial**

It was like a trance.

Unstoppable.

Every step forward marked a turning point in an otherwise grand scheme.

Every movement echoing in her ears.

Every breath sounding like it came from a darker part of herself.

Her footfalls ended at the edge of the bed, and the slice of the blade was silent as it cut across tender flesh.

There was a gurgle, so soft that Rosalie wasn't even sure of her own meticulous hearing.

The deed was done, visceral, and empty.

Death, murky black against crimson.

She waited for a few moments, and then stepped away, walking to the window and escaping just the way she came.

Ghostlike, not a drop of blood on her hands remained.

In her pocket, one tiny little vial, corked and wrapped in plastic waited to be tasted.

Things had not gone as planned, but, at least her mind could be silenced once again.

Or so she hoped.

Somewhere deep inside, the beast roared.

Maybe, that beast had been humanity itself.


	22. Chapter 22

**What You Are**

 **Chapter 22: My Ultimatum**

Her choice wasn't regretful, not yet anyway. She could have put the little jar aside, but doing that was too far out of reach, her mind already gnawing at the chance to taste it. A growl, nearly animalistic in nature, worked its way from the base of her throat. Angry at herself, and the blood, and the reality that she couldn't just put it back, she yanked the cork out and considered pouring the contents down the nearest sink.

Not that she would, it was hers now, to do with as she most wanted. The sticky crimson liquid was indeed human blood, the one thing she promised herself never to partake, yet it was not within a human anymore. It was free of the rules Rosalie herself had placed over the taboo act, even if the drink itself was still hell incarnate.

With careful precision, she poured it into a crystal wine glass, dark red, and still ever so slightly warm.

That same glass sat next to the firelight, as Rosalie considered the substance floating there, Too many opportunities lay at her feet. She knew she could only choose one. Her desires had not reached their pinnacle, a sordid little truth when she thought of the dead girl she'd taken it from, the woman resting now for eternity.

Such was life, darkness and all.

No redemption for the deranged, evil people that walked this earth. No rest for the demons, no lullaby for the soul. There was safe harbor in nothingness, at least, there used to be. It was neither a sinners paradise, or a saint's holy grail. That would be okay, the nothingness maybe even the retribution...

Even in this, it should not be something fulfilling, Rosalie assured herself.

Not prophecy, nor fate.

It was merely a drink, a meal to taste for the first time, and hopefully the only time. This was the one single allowance, made because the mind could only be quieted with such a tincture as the one that sat before her. The final step in soothing away the murmurs cackling at her heels, even as she pushed herself further into oblivion by lifting that glass to her nose.

The blood sloshed gently as she twirled it, teasing her in oh so tantalizing ways. The smell was strong enough to make her salivate, and with eyes clenched tightly shut, she let the first few drops hit her tongue, the new taste sensation addictive enough to make her moan.

No one else would ever be able to taste so sweet.

Rosalie was sure of it.


	23. Chapter 23

**What You Are**

 **Chapter 23: My Vice**

 _"_ _I'd really like to kill you," She said, looking down at her fingertips, now pink with tinges of sweet blood and arousal. "That neither solves my problem, nor soothes it." She ripped the gag out of the girl's mouth before taking her leave. "Letting you live, that's probably worse."_

Her eyes snapped open, it was that dream again.

That terrible dream that threatened her reality, spinning her words into a tangled web of devotion and deceit. If she could erase it from her memory, she would have. As it stood, even blissful nothingness gave her no answer. That night, forever embedded in her thoughts, would be the one thing that would forever haunt her.

She was connected now, in a way indisputable to her pray, dead or not.

There was no denying it, no turning back. The emotions laced within a person's soul, that visceral life giving fluid, it was always foretold to be the elixir to end all elixirs. The milk and honey of all who wanted to reach the highest hilltops attainable by a thing still living. So what then was death? What was mortality, and what rested there, at the edges of her own sanity?

Why dream of Bella at all, she was a dead girl.

Rosalie knew now, that death was only the start of the mire her life would inevitably cross. There would be more like Bella, maybe none quite so unique, but lifeforms that tested reality anyway. When? Rosalie wouldn't know until she found one. Where? She didn't have a clue. How? A question that pulled from her even more discord.

How would they cross paths, how would that next new mortal begin to understand?

Why…

Why did she consider those things?

Why did she sit in the pale moonlight and consider the taste that she could only recall, and could never experience again.

Why did she kill, what prompted her soul to do such a thing?

And why, even in her state of being, did she continue to live?

She toyed with a lighter, flicking it on and off. It was the one thing that could truly harm her, the one pain she could not completely avoid. Dismemberment and fire was the only true way to die. So why hadn't she? Fear? No.

It wasn't fear…

She turned to look at the body bag, the woman that waited to be buried inside of it was beginning to stagnate. She couldn't help it, collecting Bella and protecting the one thing that had ever once been hers.

Solely hers.

Why did it hurt?

Why couldn't she take it back?

Why?

What was this corpse, what meaning did it give?

now that the soul within was long gone…was there even a meaning left?

What did it all mean in the grand scheme?

There was no peace, no morning calm. There was only despair, only questions, and this time no one was around to answer them.


	24. Chapter 24

**What You Are**

 **Chapter 24: My Will**

There would never be a day colder than this one, because, it was her last day.

Never again would the rain kiss her lips, nor the icy bite of winter's frost nip at her fingers. Spring would not come to dull the chill, and summer would never again afford her that warm breeze across her skin.

Never again, would she ever dream.

Deep in the woods, a fire burned stronger than Rosalie had ever felt before. It was better than hell, better than life had become. She thought nothing of the bag she threw down into the heated abyss, jumping in soon after it. The purging flames engulfed her, her scream so loud, it was likely that it would echo for miles around, and the gas can that she'd tied to her foot only encouraged the flames even higher as it combusted.

The one at her chest was next.

The one at her back followed.

To Rosalie, it one only one large, confusing second of pain, followed by the blissful nothingness she wanted most to feel.

She could sleep now, for the rest of eternity, no harm coming to anyone else, no dreams to torment her. Best of all, she could almost feel that all too warm hand in hers. That god-damned infuriatingly warm hand, that she could not escape from...not even in death. It was as if the plastic around the bag had melted, that the shriveled body within almost gave a damn.

This time, Rosalie absently squeezed back before all of her sanity drifted away entirely.

Her breath already gone, imaginary, and as fleeting as the wind itself.


	25. Chapter 25

(Xoanon: an image of a god that has been carve out of wood, or some other kind of pulp. Just so you know, the reference is Greek, and didn't purely come from 'Doctor Who'. On occasion, mystical creatures were also carved. It is a little known fact that some believed that if they carved the image, they would be found and protected by that spirit, god, goddess, or entity. In a state a madness, some would carve images of their loved ones, as if somehow that would reunite them after the most heinous act a person could commit: killing one's own self.)

 **What You Are**

 **Chapter 25: My Xoanon**

There was darkness in front of her, behind her, even beside her.

Everything hurt, everything melting away.

But that hand reached out, a white, pure hand, knowingly reaching for hers.

She could not smile through the heat, she doubted it was really there at all. Yet, reach she did, in search of something she had never before experienced.

 _"_ _See? I told you… I'm an ugly thing."_

 _"_ _Ugly? No… you're not ugly. You're just you. Open your eyes, you'll see."_

 _"_ _My eyes are open."_

 _"_ _Really now, then you must be blind."_

 _"_ _Don't tell me this is heaven or hell. I don't believe in that."_

 _"_ _I don't know, but I don't really care. I just… I need you to open your eyes."_

Rosalie tried, blinking several time. Eventually, her sight cleared. Nothing but white in front of her. Then nothing but white, red, and the image of the woman long past gone, covered in her own blood, marked by her wounds. "This isn't real. There's no way that it could be."

"I don't know, it seems as real as it's ever going to get."

"Bella," Rosalie murmured in stunned awe, "your guts are hanging out… You shouldn't even be able to talk."

"Whose fault is that?"

"Now I know this isn't real… Is that all you can give me? Some snooty, holier than thou speech about what is and isn't reality."

"You're dead too. Even if I wanted to kill you, you've gone and done pretty good job of that yourself."

"Alright fine," Rosalie sighed at length, lifting her hand to move some of her hair out of her face. She paused when she noticed that it was black as soot, her skin was charred, but she felt no pain. "Where are we then?"

"I don't belong here, but, I don't know where you belong, either. This is where I say goodbye. My soul can rest now, you followed me. I knew you would."

"Like you knew, you bitch."

"You're beautiful, you know."

"Shut up…"

"So beautiful, even in your own darkness. I wanted to see it too, how far you'd go," Bella said honestly, her hands folded behind her back. "I guess, I wanted to think that I was enough. Something about that really meant a lot to me."

"I said shut up!"

Bella shook her head. She couldn't, not now. "I once heard you ask me what I was to you. I wanted to know the same thing about you. I wondered, what was this person to me? I thought about it more and more. Whenever you'd watch over me, I felt complete."

Rosalie, betrayal in her eyes could only feel angry about that. "You're not supposed to say things like that!"

"It felt like it was supposed to happen." Bella continued, walking forward until her fingertips reached Rosalie's cheek. "Since I'm dead, maybe I was wrong, but, strangely I'm not too upset about it. I think I know now… what we are."


	26. Chapter 26

**What You Are**

 **Chapter 26: My Yonside**

"I hate you," Rosalie said, feeling hot tears fall from her face. Lifting what was left of her fingers, she realized her body was warm too. Warmth, something she'd never had after becoming a monster, a vampire, was now hers once more. "I hate you! I bloody fucking hate you!"

Bella just smiled, shook her head, turning to see the distance…the forest in front of her. She wondered if Rosalie saw the same thing, but she was afraid to ask. Instead, she turned to the woman, her murderer, and murmured a very simple phrase. "I love you."

"Why…" Rosalie could hear her voice shaking, biting her lip so hard she could feel her own mind trying to keep her from doing that. If she were alive, it would be an instinct of countering pain. "Why would you even think for a second that this… No, just...no. Don't come near me, you twisted bitch."

"Why wouldn't I?" Bella asked.

"You'd be insane if you did!" Rosalie shouted. "Don't you get it?! I'm nothing, I will never be anything. Not to anyone, most of all not to you. I don't want to be anything anymore."

"You already left your mark," Bella said quietly, "there is nothing else you can do but accept that I have become the symbol of your burdens. We're here together right now, aren't we?"

"That's awfully trite, coming from a woman like you." Feet rooted to the ground, she could no longer deny the soft gaze Bella gave her. It was infuriating. "You asked for this, you know that… I never…" No, she wouldn't say it. She wouldn't give Bella that kind of satisfaction.

"Bad things happen to good people, Rosalie."

"It's the terrible people who do it though," Rosalie shot back, gritting her teeth. "I never asked for things to turn out the way they did."

"You're human, Rosalie. That's what you are...what we are."

"No," Rosalie shook her head. "I'm a monster, I'm a vampire, I'm a god-damned rapist, now I'm even dead…but no matter what I am, I'm _not_ human."

"You are so caught up in the things you can't face, you don't even see the things you can. So much power, and you're afraid to use it. You hold yourself back, but isn't part of being human too? Being afraid, seeing your own weaknesses, knowing you can't always beat the system? Wasn't that humanity too, for someone like you? Mortality...all of it. Wasn't that what being human is about?"

"Even so," Rosalie felt disgusted by it. "Even if you twist it like that…"

"Why wouldn't I love that about you? Those are uniquely human traits, things a monster could never have."

Rosalie didn't know where to begin. "Because that logic is so, so, so very flawed. Don't you get it? Think about how screwed up that kind of thing really is?" Rosalie wanted to dispute it, to crumple up that little admission and throw it away. "If you call that humanity… What I did to you humanity… That's beyond sick. That's not being human."

"Humans can be sick too, it doesn't change how I feel."

"We're dead, it doesn't matter how you feel, idiot." Rosalie sighed. "Why did I kill someone so worthless…"

"Why didn't I live for someone more worthwhile?" Bella retorted, still smiling. "You're right that it doesn't matter. I could just walk away and find wherever I'm meant to be, but I'd rather be standing on our ashes with you."

Rosalie licked her lips. "Stay, and I'll only break you…"

"That's fine," Bella said quietly. "I'll only love you all the more if you do."

"See, this is why you're dead!" Rosalie shouted, her hand reaching out to slap the other girl, the sensation a strange one. Not quite tangible, but entirely there all the same. "Get out of here, while you still can." Yet, those bruised lips were on hers, and Rosalie didn't want to fight it anymore. Still, she pushed the woman away from her. "Sew your neck up or something first, Jesus. What's wrong with you!"

"You'll stay with me?" Bella asked.

Rosalie just nodded quietly. "I'm not going to waste my time with a mangled corpse. I sure as hell won't ever love one, either… But, if you want me to stay, I have nothing better to do."


	27. Chapter 27

(So concludes this story, with the final chapter. We hope you enjoyed the ride, and that this experience has left all of you with something bittersweet to take away until the next time. This has been a collaborative work from the TTT.)

 **What You Are**

 **Chapter 27: My Zen**

If a passerby were to walk among the trees, they would never know about why the smell of fire lingered on for decades to come.

They would never know the truth about the women who never left in search an afterlife, choosing an eternity of only each other, of only their deepest sins. Maybe someone spiritually inclined might be able to hear the sounds of two women bantering. To most however, it would be nothing more than a gentle breeze wafting in the air. Grass refused to grow in that little circle where countless years ago, two bodies burned to nothingness.

This circle had been called by some as the maiden's circle.

For the women in question, this forest was their home. A place where not even the comforts of old waited for them. However, if some were to listen to the banter on the campus, the halls were easily haunted by these women.

To Rosalie and Bella, it was just another night, another way to break the monotony.

"You're a twisted bitch, you know that?" Rosalie asked as she held down a very naked Bella, in a place they visited every so often. Her lips kissed the nape of Bella's neck, following along the lines of what was now a terrible scar.

"You won't get away with this," Bella murmured.

"I know, I just don't care." Rosalie said, another kiss planted on the hollow of the girl's throat. "I'm that full of myself, you know."

"You're full of something," Bella said snidely, pushing Rosalie away with force.

Rosalie, reached out, slapping Bella, but the woman hardly felt it. "Don't get cheeky with me."

Bella rolled her eyes. "Shut up and kiss me already."

"Cute," Rosalie laughed, "but you'd have to do better than that."

"Oh, come on, you've had me tied up all day, this isn't funny anymore!"

"Now listen here," Rosalie said, her words heated, like liquid venom. "We can do this my way, or your way. You resist, I'll leave you like this for the next hundred years. Be a good girl, do as I say, and you may even enjoy yourself. Now what do you say?"

Bella gritted her teeth, trying to break Rosalie's hold again, to no avail. What did she say? "I'd say you're out of your mind."

Rosalie grinned, wetting her lips with the tip of her tongue as she leaned in, capturing Bella's with hers. Rough and wanting, affording the woman at her mercy just the slightest bit of affection. "That… That might be true, but I promise you that when I'm done with you, you will be too."

Bella took a breath, even though her lungs no longer needed it. "I already am."


End file.
